


My World on His Shoulders

by dear_ida



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Break Up, Comedian Richie Tozier, Domestic Bliss, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Break Up, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, eddie doesnt die, im so sorry about stanley omg, richie has a motorcycle at one point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 20:16:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20880068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dear_ida/pseuds/dear_ida
Summary: Eddie remembers clutching the pin in his palms as the older boy sped away, the setting sun illuminating the back of his head, as his brightly patterned shirt clung to life against his shoulders, blowing in the wind.





	My World on His Shoulders

**Author's Note:**

> SHOULDERS.
> 
> But actually, this took me some time. There are probably still a lot of mistakes because I am notorious for those, despite how much I review, I miss something. I hope it's enjoyable either way.
> 
> Hit me up at @dear-ida on Tumblr.
> 
> Please also review, I might go a little nuts if I don't get any sort of criticism/feedback for this.

Eddie’s eyes travel the slope of Richie’s shoulders as his boyfriend climbs off the bed to deposit the used condom in the garbage can by the en suite. He disappears through the bathroom door and Eddie can hear the water turn on and then turn off a moment later. Richie appears back in the doorway and stops. Eddie’s eyes move from his long collarbone to his neck, and then his face. His cheeks are still flushed, his eyes are bright and his dark, messy, hair more tousled than usual. He smiles brightly at Eddie from the doorway, pitching his shoulder into the frame as he holds a damp-looking cloth in his hands.

“Feeling alright angel?” Eddie takes a moment to refocus his attention from Richie’s face to listen to his voice.

“What?” Richie frowns, pushing from the doorway and making his way back to the bed.

“I asked if you were feeling alright baby,” he leans over Eddie’s prone form. “I know that was a little intense.” Oh.

Eddie smiles and grabs the hand running through the hair by his temple.

“I’m just fine Richie, you don’t have to ask every time.” Richie snorts.

“I don’t ask every time, but you spaced out there for a moment. Thought I’d lost you.” _Oh_. 

Eddie squeezes his hand tight and pulls it to his lips for a kiss.

“Never again,” he promises.

Richie seems comforted with that answer as he sits on the edge of the bed, pulling his hand free to push Eddie gently into the mattress.

“Let me wipe you down love,” he leans in to kiss Eddie’s forehead. “Relax.” 

Eddie lets Richie take control, his eyes naturally falling back to the taller man’s shoulder blades, along the lines of his broad shoulders. He watches the flex in his collarbone and shoulder muscles as his hand moves to wipe across Eddie’s body with the warm cloth.

His body grows heavy from Richie’s ministrations. His eyes droop closed and the remaining sliver of light tunnel visions to those shoulders. Those shoulders that have carried so many of Richie’s burdens and Eddie’s too. Eddie sees his own hand come into focus, fingertips just reaching the cuff of the other man’s shoulders. His fingertips tingle at the warmth that meets them. He feels so safe with this body so close to his, and that allows him to finally drift off to sleep.

* * *

In the summer of 1990, Eddie discovers his love button pins. His collection from the end of the school year in June, to the hot middle of August, amounts to almost forty different pins. He hangs some on his backpack; ones that he’s excited to sport in the coming school year. Others, he pins to the cushion of the chair that sits in his room, piled over with clothes so his Mom doesn’t see him ‘ruining the material’ when she checks on him. He also has some hanging on the standing mirror frame by his closet door, lined up neatly on a ribbon material of the sash he won at last years ‘Math Olympics’. That one’s mostly for Richie, so he’ll stop teasing him for ‘winning the award for biggest math nerd in their middle school’.

It such a mundane thing he truly enjoys, collecting button pins, and he’s all for mundane following the summer of killer clowns and infested sewers. 

He’s overall quite proud of his growing collection, he won some at the July Fourth Fair, others he purchased with his allowance from the pharmacy and some from the prize machines at the movie theatres. His favourites, however, are the ones he’d received from his friends.

Stanley had given him one with a dove mid-flight beautifully captured on the round button. He’d gotten it from his scout group and said he’d immediately thought of Eddie when he saw it. It was the first one Eddie had received from one of his friends and he stood a little gobsmacked as the taller boy had placed the pin in his hand.

“It’s not like a badge or something right?” he’d asked almost immediately as he inspected the design.

“No,” Stan had said with a chuckle, “our scout leader gave them out to us as a token for our start of summer gathering.”

“Oh, well, Stan...thank you! It’s so pretty!” Stan had flushed just a little and turned away with shrug.

Word then got around to the losers of Eddie’s love for button pins, he supposes, because over the next few weeks he received one from each of his friends.

Beverly gave him a button pin that she received from her aunt a long while back, stating she thought Eddie would like it and she had no use for it, besides collecting dust in her bedside drawer. It had a beautiful design of a sunset over a city skyline. Eddie was not sure what city, but he loved it all the same.

Ben and Bill both gave him one in the same week. Bill; one he had won playing at fair in the water shooter games. He’d turned down a bigger prize, he’d admitted to Eddie after handing it to him, said nothing had interested him but thought the pin with the funny looking frog with swirly little eyeballs was pretty cool.

Ben gave him his first pin with words written across the front. It had “I love to Read” in bold red letters across a plain white background. Ben said he had gotten plenty of them over the years, and wanted to help add to Eddie’s collection.

The one he received from Mike was homemade, a simple bronzy tin circle stuck through the middle with a safety pin. It was a little out of shape, a different size than the other pins but Eddie was so impressed that Mike had one; put this together at all, and two; done it for him, he couldn’t care that it wasn’t perfect. He’d given the larger boy a big thank you hug.

He’d just received one from Richie the week before. The boy said he’d won it at the arcade, which made sense as it had one of Richie’s _Street Fighter_ characters posing on the front in bright flashy colours. Richie had tossed the pin at Eddie when they were bidding each other goodbye in front of Eddie’s house, he’d given a nonchalant shrug, picked up his bike and with a quick “see ya Eds!” was zooming down the street. Eddie remembers clutching the pin in his palms as the older boy sped away, the setting sun illuminating the back of his head, as his brightly patterned shirt clung to life against his shoulders, blowing in the wind.

Eddie took special care of these pins. They held such importance him, coming from his friends. He wanted to display them proudly for the world to see, so he stuck two on the back of his bike seat and one on his handlebar. He’d wanted to stick more but he was worried that sticking on too many would make them fall off without him noticing. So he pinned three in and taped them down for extra measure with masking tape. Even them driving from point A to B, he would check to make sure they were still all in place.

This carried on through the summer and into the first few weeks of the school year in September. It was starting to get too cold to bike outside, so on one morning as Eddie hitched his bike to take off for school he made sure to remind himself to take the pins off as he stored his bike for the winter.

At school, he met Beverly and Ben near the bike racks. Beverly waved at him as he pulled into a spot and took his bike lock out.

“Still biking?” she asked, sounding a little surprised. Eddie clicked the lock in place and stood up straight.

“Last time this year.”

They walked into the school together as the first bell rings for the morning, meeting their friends on the way to their respective lockers and homeroom classrooms.

When the last bell rings for the day, Eddie is still gathering his books from his locker. Richie is leaning on the one next to him, bickering with Bill about some sci-fi program they’d both watched the night before.

“Eds, wanna hang out tonight?” Richie asks suddenly, seemingly interrupting his conversation with Bill to pose the question. Bill simply rolls his eyes over Richie’s shoulder and bids the two goodbye before leaving down the hallway.

Eddie zips up his bag, “maybe, when?” Richie stands up straight, shutting the smaller boys locker for him as he adjusts the straps of his backpack over his shoulders.

“Around seven maybe? I’m taking driving lessons with my Dad after dinner.” Richie has already started practising his driving, seemingly determined to master the skill so he can get his motorcycle license, of all things, as soon as possible. 

“Okay, should be fine. Come to my place?” he poses it as a question despite knowing full well it’s their standard. Eddie has very little luck of sneaking out from his house after dinner, his mother would throw a fit. She wouldn’t be _pleased_ to see Richie roaming her house, but it wouldn’t send her howling after the police like if Eddie had left the house himself. 

“Course Spaghetti.” Richie reaches over to ruffle his hair and on instinct, Eddie reaches up to bat him away.

“Stop! Asshole, don’t do that, you know--”

“E-E-Eddie!” It’s Bill. Looking completely flushed, angry and concerned all at the same time. He’s standing in the middle of the hall, clothes askew, hair a mess. His fists are clenched at his side. Eddie stops.

“Bill, are you okay?” It’s Richie who asks, stepping forward.

“F-Fu-Fucking Bowers!” he hisses out, “Ed-Eddie’s b-bike!” Eddie feels his stomach drop. He takes off in the direction to the front of the school, pushing the doors open.

His eyes immediately fall to the bike rack and he freezes. His bike is still there where he left it this morning, but more mangled, the back tire punctured in, hanging lifelessly behind the bike seat. The bike seat itself looks like it has strips of white paper hanging off the back, and the handlebars too--

_No_. 

Eddie rushes forward, his throat feels like it’s closing up as everything comes into focus.

The bike seat is torn up, he can see from up close; it’s run through with jagged marks that look like a knife made them. One handlebar has been ripped clean off and is in shredded pieces of black rubber on the grass. With shaking fingers Eddie reaches for the other handlebar, the one that has a limp piece of what he can tell now is tape, hanging off it. The pin that is supposed to be secure there is gone, the one from Stanley with the beautiful bird.

He feels his face grow hot as his eyes move to the back of the bike seat. Both pins had been ripped free from the tape there too, the beautiful skyline from Beverly and the one from Richie, with the brightly coloured _Street Fighter_ character.

A sob bubbles its way out his mouth before he even realizes and he crouches by his bike, letting out a loud cry. It allows for an outpour of more anguish as more sobs rip their way from his chest, echoing down the empty yard.

He feels so stupid, crying over some buttons. But they meant so much to him, his friends had given them to him. How could he not cry over losing something so important?

“Eddie?” he hears someone call from behind him and he opens his mouth to speak, but a glint of something in the grass from the setting sun catches his attention. He leans forward and reaches for it, digging it up into his palm.

It’s metal and poking and mangled.

It’s one of his pins, he realizes. 

He flips it in his palm and sees the familiar patch of bright, obnoxious, colour from the pin Richie gave him, the pin he won in the arcade and had tossed to him in front of his house. Its caved in the middle, the character warped into an odd angle like someone had stomped on it with his foot until it was barely recognizable.

More sobs rip themselves from deep inside Eddie’s chest.

“Eddie!” There are hands on his hips pulling him up and turning him around, he clutches desperately at the pin in his hand, ignoring the pinch of metal that digs into his palm. He’s still sobbing as Richie brushes his hair from his face, looking horribly concerned.

“What? What’s wrong Eddie? Are you hurt?” He’s asking frantically, glancing back at Bill as he quickly approaches them. 

Eddie shakes his head, not trusting his voice even as his sobs subside. He holds his palm open to Richie, showing him the pin. Richie takes it, frowning as he seemingly tries to decipher what it is. He seems to catch on and glances over Eddie’s shoulder at his bike, back at Eddie, then the pin again. Something then seems to catch his eye further down the street and his eyes narrow. Eddie frowns this time as Richie opens his palm to drop the pin back in before he marches right past him. 

Eddie turns as he passes, following his line of sight. His heart seizes as he notices Bowers down the street, making his way in their direction. But he doesn’t look like he notices them, he’s probably already forgotten what he’d done, Eddie thinks bitterly. 

“Hey, _asshole_!” Eddie’s eyes rip over to his best friend, widening into saucers as Richie, in all his skinny, pale, glory, marches over to Bowers in determination, meeting him halfway.

That definitely seems to get Bowers’ attention, and he stops, a scary grin coming to his face.

“Richie Tozier, what the fuck do you want?”

Eddie swears loudly. He pockets the mangled pin and runs over to Richie, gripping his arm, hoping to gain some sense in his friend quickly enough that they can run away safely.

Bill comes from somewhere behind and stands just at Eddie’s side. Eddie is hoping his friend can help convince Richie to back down from whatever he’s trying to pull here. 

“Y-You know e-e-exactly wh-at Bowers!”

So much for looking to Bill for help. 

Eddie grips tight on Richie’s forearm, squeezing with both hands hoping the sensation will knock some sense into his friend. Bowers carries a _knife_, for fucks sake.

“Why did you do that to Eddie’s bike you asshole?” Richie shouts, eyes locked determinedly on the older boy, standing tall despite the obvious disadvantage in height.

Bowers stomps over, standing inches from both Richie and Eddie. Eddie gasps audibly, unconsciously stepping slightly behind his taller friend, but trying to pull him back to get more space between them too. Richie, however, stands his ground, lets Eddie hide behind him but remains fixed on Bowers.

Bowers grins. His eyes flicker to Eddie for a split second and then back to Richie. 

“Mad I made your boyfriend cry?” He must have noticed the tear tracks on Eddie’s cheeks.

Richie scowls but does not say a word.

“That doesn’t answer my question, limp-dick.” Eddie decides Richie must have a death wish.

The grin drops from Bowers face the same time as Eddie’s stomach drops. 

“Come again?”

Eddie’s eyes move over the side of Richie’s face. Trying to figure out what's driving his friend to be so bold. His expression is a solid as stone, but a movement catches in the corner of Eddie’s eye.

Richie’s shoulders are _trembling_. He’s obviously trying to keep the focus away from them as he keeps eye contact with Bowers, but Eddie can see them shake under his teal blue Hawaiian shirt.

If he’s so scared, _why_ is he doing this?

Eddie has but a moment to puzzle over this before he notices Bowers swinging his fist back. He shouts and in a split second, takes a leap forward and swings his leg up. 

Making direct contact with Bowers’ balls. 

Bowers goes down like a rock, clutching at himself between his legs, curled into a ball as he cries. 

“Lets-Let’s go!” Bill cries from behind them.

Richie grabs his hand and pulls him along as they escape as fast as they can down the street.

A week later Eddie wanders into the local arcade, Richie’s usual haunt when he’s not with the Losers. He looks around and frowns. He was expecting to find the other boy here, seeing as he was not at his home and not with any of the other losers. It’s not too busy for a Sunday afternoon, a few kids here and there crowded around different games.

“Everything alright kid?” The voice of a man at the other end of the hall catches his attention and he plasters on a kind smile.

“No thank you sir, I was just looking for my friend.” 

The man comes around the cash counter.

“Your friend a big glasses, skinny, dark-haired kid?” Eddie internally snickers at the description.

“Yeah, have you seen him?”

“Just missed him I’m afraid, left about ten minutes ago. Probably headed home.”

Eddie sighs, that’s annoying.

“I’d figured someone come looking for him eventually, kid has been spending the last few days holed up in here.” Eddie frowns, confused by what he means. 

“What?”

“Yeah. He’s been glued to the claw machine over there,” the man gestures with his chin to the claw machine in the far right corner. “Seemed determined to get something out of it, told him it was no luck.” 

Eddie looks at the machine and back at the man.

“You don’t know what?”

The man shrugs, “Nah, no idea. Sorry kid.”

Eddie just smiles and bids the man a quick goodbye as he slips out the door.

He goes by Richie’s house, not even sure if the boy really is home.

“Hey Spaghetti,” he sees Richie coming out the front door as he pulls up in front. The boy skips over to him with a smile. “Surprised to see Mrs.K let you out of the house at such a late hour.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and continues down the street, knowing Richie will follow him. The older boy always walks him home.

“I’ve been actually looking for you all day,” he admits. 

“Lil Ol’ me? Whatever for?” Richie asks in one of his many stupid accents. 

“I tried calling you and you wouldn’t pick up and then the others hadn’t heard from you.”

“Aw sweet-cheeks, where you worried about me?” Eddie snorts.

“Hardly. I even stopped by your arcade, the guy at the counter said you spent the last three days there.”

Richie suddenly stops. So Eddie does too, turning to face the other boy.

His shoulders are hunched up high in what Eddie has learned to be one of Richie’s defence mechanisms when he feels too exposed. He hasn’t seen that in a while.

“What?”

“Fucking old Jonny” Richie mutters to himself.

“...What?”

“The mans a blabbermouth.”

Richie steps forward and spins Eddie around by the waist, “just, let’s go, I’ll tell you when we get to your place.” He nudges Eddie forward, “quickly before your mom calls the police.”

Eddie agrees to wait until they get to his place before he starts grilling Richie for answers.

When they pull up outside his house, he crosses his arms and stands waiting.

“So?” 

The shoulders are back up. 

“So yeah, I’ve been at the arcade lately cause,” he stops and sighs, reaching into his back pocket, pulling something out. 

That's. _No_. It’s different.

Richie holds out a button pin to him, it’s colours are the same brightness as the last pin that Richie gave him. But this one is in shades of purple instead of red and blue. 

“I was trying to win you this, I saw how devastated you were about your last pin and I wanted to-to, fix it.” 

Eddie takes the pin and inspects it up close. It’s a different character than the last, but Eddie has seen Richie play with this character too.

He’s not sure how to respond. Richie spent literal days holed up in an arcade, using his own allowance to win Eddie this little metal pin.

“Thanks, Richie.” Is all he can manage. But it makes Richie smile so bright that Eddie smiles too.

And his shoulders aren’t scrunched up anymore, Eddie notices.

* * *

“I’m not fucking doing this Richie.” Eddie’s voice brooks no room for argument. 

Richie just smiles, slipping his helmet up off his head and reaching for Eddie’s hip, pulling him into his side. He runs a hand soothingly up his side and under his thin t-shirt. Eddie had recently taken a liking to bright pastel colours. 

“Do you ever think I’d let anything happen to you?”

“You’ve let _plenty_ of things happen to me.”

“Baby, that’s I _do_ plenty of things _to_ you, much different.” Eddie wiggles out of his grasp and backs up to a safe distance from Richie’s long arms.

“Richie, I’m not kidding, this thing is a death trap” he whines, “I wish you weren’t doing it either.”

Something seems to click in for Richie and his expression quickly morphs into something more serious.

“Eddie, I promise you, nothing will happen okay? To you or me. Especially you.” He stands from his bike and pulls Eddie into his arms, kissing the top of his head.

The older boy went through some massive growth spurt and shot up over six feet by the time he reached eighteen. Eddie would be more annoyed by their size difference if he didn’t find it completely hot.

He sighs into Richie’s chest.

“Okay, I trust you.” Richie grins victoriously and hands him his helmet from the back of the bike. He does a little jig before climbing on the bike, waiting for Eddie to climb on behind him.

“Helmet on and secured?” Eddie clips it into place.

“Yes,” he grouses. 

“Okay, hold on tight baby, here we go.” Richie kicks back the kickstand and revs the engine. Eddie clutches on tight as the bike moves forward and Richie drives down his lane way and onto the main street. 

The bike picks up fast and Eddie can feel the wind rushing through his clothes and across his cheeks. He buries his head into Richie’s back, shutting his eyes down tight, still a little afraid.

He can hear Richie laughing in exhilaration over the roar of the engine, bringing one of Eddie’s hands to lips for a kiss. 

“This is so amazing Eds!”

Eddie dares to look up and sees just an absolute blur. Houses whiz by, people out walking their pets, kids playing in the park. Eddie feels a smile break across his face. It _is_ exhilarating. And a little daring, doing this as two men in their conservative little town. But Eddie hopes their speed disguises them a little, and perhaps his slight figure and helmet disguises him.

They do a couple of laps through the neighbourhood on the bike, Eddie smiling contently as he watches his boyfriend concentrate on the road, especially as they approach other vehicles. He buries his face into Richie’s shoulder blade and smiles more to himself. He can feel the slight shift in the muscle as Richie manoeuvres around the streets. The older boy had really started to grow into his tall figure, his shoulders broadening out and arms gaining more definition. He was certainly nowhere near the status of someone who it the gym on a regular basis, but taking on his motorcycle and helping his Dad around the house with repairs, had really done him good. Eddie himself remained quite lithe as his late father appeared in pictures, but had earned quite a bit of power his legs from joining the track team in high school.

Eddie pushes his nose into his boyfriend's shoulder as they pull back into Richie’s house. He cuts the engine when they make it up the drive and puts down the kickstand. Eddie hops off and his legs almost give under him. 

Richie laughs as he climbs off the bike to help.

“That’ll happen the first time.”

Eddie gets his wits about him and smiles up at his boyfriend. “That was so fun!”

Richie pulls off his helmet and places it down, and then takes off Eddie’s.

“Glad you enjoyed it, love.” He pulls Eddie in, who tip-toes to kiss his lips. Richie pulls him back in as he moves away, prolonging the kiss.

“Mmmh,” he grins down at the other boy as they pull back.

“Feel like telling your Mom you rode a motorcycle today?” 

“Sure you want to also tell her I’m not a virgin?”

Richie gasps out a laugh, “geez Eds!”

“I’m just saying, you might as well tell her you defiled me if you’re gonna say I rode on a motorcycle with my boyfriend.” 

Richie pulls him flush against him with a sleazy grin, “defiled huh? That’s what it was?” 

Eddie runs his hands along Richie’s shoulder before hooking them behind his neck, eyes half-lidded.

“Never said it was a bad thing.”

Eddie pulls him down for another kiss.

* * *

He’s been sitting behind the wheel of his car for what is realistically probably twenty minutes, but feels like at least an hour, completely fixated and fidgeting over his fingers and in particular a fingernail that is broken jaggedly along the side. He itches to either drive to the store and buy a nail clipper to fix it, immediately, or drive home and pull on the nail clipper he knows his mom stores in the cupboard in the coffee table. However movement catches in the corner of his eye and diverts his attention, he looks up through the passenger window from where he’s parked along the curb outside the house.

Richie’s house. 

Richie is making his way down the stone steps of his front entrance, hands tucked in the pockets of his leather jacket, as he hunches in on himself to fight off the biting cold of the late fall weather.

Or prepare himself for what's about to come.

They’ve been talking about this for weeks. Weeks and weeks of back and forth discussion, trying to find a middle ground. Something that could work for both of them.

Richie stands just at the window, his tall frame easily taking up most of its space. Eddie unlocks the door and motions for Richie to hop in.

“Christ it’s fucking cold when the fuck did winter arrive?” Richie grouses as he climbs into the passenger seat. The sky outside does look wintery; it's grey and overcast, not a streak of sunlight visible. Eddie feels lethargic, would rather be doing anything but this, like snuggling up to Richie’s side as they watch Halloween movies while sipping hot cocoa. 

“Richie,” he starts, resting his hands on the wheel, looking straight ahead. Richie stops moving around in his seat and leans back to look at Eddie.

“We’re doing this?” Eddie grips the steering wheel and dips his chin, allowing for a minuscule, barely-there, nod. 

“Fuck,” Richie curses, turning his own eyes out the passenger side window. 

“I don’t want to, but, I can’t anymore Richie, I can’t with her,” Eddie’s voice comes on wavering, tears already burning in the corner of his eyes. Richie whirls around. 

“No one said you had to, Eddie!” he shouts and the smaller boy flinches. Richie sighs and tips his head back in defeat.

“I told you, come with me, we can go away together, get the fuck out of this small, shit town, and start somewhere new.”

Eddie shakes his head, “I can’t do that to you, Richie, you’re almost done your program.”

“Eddie I couldn’t care less about college, I’m doing it for my parents.” 

“I’m doing this for you.” Eddie finally makes eye contact with him but he can hardly see Richie through the tears in his eyes. His longtime boyfriend who had grown into such a handsome man. Richie was going places, he was brilliant and funny and had his whole world in front of him. Eddie figured he’d leave Derry himself one day, but Eddie couldn’t pull him away from his life, his family, or finishing his schooling.

“I can’t do that to your parents Richie, they’ve done so much for me.” Eddie watches as Richie’s Adam's apple bobs in his throat like he had to swallow something down. His head tips from the back seat and he hunches in on himself again.

“When are you going to realize that _you’re_ my family, that _you’re_ all I want.” He mutters it so softly, that if it weren’t for the utter dead silence in the car, Eddie is sure he wouldn’t have caught it. 

“Fine Eddie,” Richie continues louder before Eddie can respond. He pushes open the passenger door and climbs out. He shuts it with enough force that the car shakes, but doesn’t take a moment to look back.

Eddie watches through tears as Richie slowly makes his way back inside his house, shoulders hanging, looking utterly defeated and devastated. Eddie hadn’t seen him look so small since they were kids and the boy was a scrawny, gimpy, loudmouth. Even then he carried himself with more confidence then he did at this moment, making him look bigger and bolder. Eddie had always admired him for that. 

Now he sat heartbroken behind the wheel of his car, heart hallow that he’d taken that away from the taller man, that he’d taken that away from himself.

* * *

His vision is shrouded in darkness. A warm darkness that envelops him in its arms. He wants more of it, it was like nothing he’d ever felt before, so comforted and content.

No. 

He _had_ felt this before, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Lying in bed pulled into the frame a larger figure, arms wrapped around his back, a sturdy chest beneath his head. He remembers a voice, soothing and sweet, lips and fingers dancing over his skin, tracing words and patterns into his body.

That’s the last time he’d felt this content. Yeah.

But that was a lifetime ago, nothing but memories of a time when he didn’t feel so afraid, so scared, so riddled with anxiety about being discovered. Being dirty and wrong, and looking over his shoulder for someone pointing their finger at him, accusing him of being a fraud, living a life that wasn’t his, wasn’t _him_. 

Not right now though. He rests in bliss. A dark bliss where he doesn’t need to look over his shoulder anymore. He can let himself be in this space, everything he truly is. 

Maybe for one last time.

“Eddie!” There’s a frantic cry, a tight grip on his forearms that’s _yanking_ him from the darkness.

“Eddie, goddammit, wake up!” Hands move over his face, brushing his hair from his forehead. The hands are wet, as they move around his cheek, brush his hair behind his temple.

“Eddie, please, baby, don’t do this to me, please” the voice is broken, words uttered between trembling syllables of sounds.

He isn’t sure what this voice wants from him. But he attempts to blink away some of the darkness in front of his eyes, to get a better idea of where he is and what this voice wants from him.

A hand cups his face. 

“That’s it Eds, focus on me, keep those Bambi’s on me and everything will be just fine.” 

He still couldn’t see much, but can faintly make out a pattern of yellow, shifting around in front his eyes. The hand on his cheek is hot and Eddie leans into it, seeking its warmth.

Why was he so cold all a sudden?

More voices dance over his head, different ones than the one speaking to him. These re waere not speaking to him, but to each other, having a back and forth conversation that he isn’t privy to knowing all about apparently.

“We’re getting you out of here, Eddie.” That is a different voice, not unlike the one that had been speaking to him, still sounding male, but different from the last.

Suddenly hands are joining behind his back and lifting him from whatever surface he’d been lying on.

He was lying down?

Two hands cross behind him at his back and rest on his hips, his own arms are strung across a pair of broad shoulders. A painful gasp rips itself from his lungs and the movement stops. 

_Christ_. Why did everything hurt all of a sudden? He craves that blissful darkness to return.

He doesn’t have much time to pine before everything os moving again, and there was rushing of loud, _loud_, noise in his ears that he isn’t sure where it is coming from. 

He pleads or the motion to stop, as spit and something else drips down his chin and neck. He is in so much pain now, he just wants it to stop. It hurts so much, he feels like he is dying.

He doesn’t want to die.

But his pleas are ignored as he is bodily dragged around corners and bends, feet dragging just off the ground.

“Almost out Eds, you’re going to be just fine, I promise.” Eddie knows that voice, that was the first one that had spoken to him. The voice with the warm hand on his face. 

He leans into the voice, gripping around its shoulder tightly. His head falls for a moment against something solid but is jostled about from all the movement so he picks it back up. The sensation under his hand is strong and Eddie focuses his energy on the muscle as it twitches here and there. Grounding himself to this, instead of the aching, _gaping_ feeling in his chest that feels like it is pulling his life force, straight from inside him. 

Suddenly something violently bright shocks his vision, and he lets out another painful cry as his body is dragged from the last bits of darkness and into a bright light. He is spun around in the pair of arms and brought gently to the ground. He can feel it this time, feel _all of it,_ way too much, he wants it to stop, stop, _stop_.

He struggles against the hands; tears and snot dripping down his face. He can hear the voices speaking frantically above him and he pleads for their help. There is another wailing noise suddenly and Eddie thought it was coming from him, but it doesn’t pull from his chest and it doesn’t sound human. 

Dirt and sand are kicked up around him as suddenly there are more hands all over him and he panics, fighting against an onslaught of sensations. Crying for help. Crying for that comforting voice, the strong solid shoulders and that warm, warm hand. Crying out for _him_.

Richie.

_Richie_.

The next time, as he opens his eyes, they’re no longer shrouded in darkness. His vision is perfectly clear, he moves to adjust his neck, back on what feels like a pillow, and pain instantly radiates down his back. He cries out and that apparently alerts the one other person in the room, because suddenly Richie Tozier is standing over him, expression awash with concern as his eyes roam Eddie’s figure, seemingly searching for the source of his pain. 

Good luck, he thinks, Eddie is not even sure where it’s coming from, it feels like everywhere, every crevice of his body.

Suddenly there are more people coming into the room, he hears the muttering of voices back and forth, most of it medical jargon he cannot decipher. All of those hospital visits as a kid taught him nothing it seems. A woman leans over him, her dark eyes searching his. She says something, but it takes Eddie’s brain a minute to catch what it is. 

“Mr. Kaspbrak, we’re going to give you some morphine. Mr. Kaspbrak? Can you respond?” Eddie feels himself nod, his lips parting to mutter a weak “okay” that he doesn’t think anyone hears. The woman nods, accepting his consent and then another woman is fiddling with IV by his bed, pushing a needle into the tube.

The relief is instantaneous, he feels his body melt back into the sheets of the hospital bed, eyes drifting closed. Hands come to his temple, pushing his hair back, and he opens them to see Richie smiling down at him softly. He thinks he smiles back, but he’s not too sure.

When his eyes crack open again, there are more people in the room. Not dressed as they work at the hospital, but in street clothing. It takes him a second to realize these people are his friends. He lifts one hand from his side and waves it out in front of him. It stops whatever conversation they are having, as their attention quickly diverts to him and then they’re all by his bed, throwing questions his way. Richie steps up by his side, shooing the others back a bit.

“Geez guys, give him a minute. I don’t think all the lights are on just yet.” Eddie wants to spew some insult at his friend but he’s not wrong. It takes him a minute to process everything as he sits up with Richie and Ben’s help. Richie has apparently mastered the button control on the bed, as it moves up a little, allowing Eddie to sit up with some help. 

He attempts a smile for all his friends, but he assumes it comes out a little strained as they just all continue to look a mix of relieved and worried. 

“Thank you,” he starts, his voice coming out weak, barely above a whisper. He frowns to himself, he’d hoped that would have past after some time. 

“Doctor thinks that might be that way awhile, you had a punctured lung from...what happened,” explains Beverly, casting a knowing look over to Bill across from her. No one says anything else.

Eddie blinks a moment; his memory slowing seeping back into his brain. Oh right, the clown.

“Guess that makes sense since he punched a hole through my chest.” He winces as the words pass his lips, he’s talking about himself but it still sounds a little ‘too soon’ to voice. His friends seem to agree by all their scandalized expression, Richie can’t even make eye contact with him. Eddie changes the subject.

“Is...he gone?” There’s a moment of silence.

“For good,” Richie says from his side, and Eddie looks over. He’s never seen such an expression on Richie’s face. He looks hardened like he’s seen too much. But determined and sure. Like everything is back to order.

He nods a little, and the silence grows again. So that’s it. It’s over.

His lower lip trembles. It’s _over_.

But.

He looks up at Bill. Their once fearless leader. Bill meets his gaze and gives him a tired smile.

He knows too.

It’s over. But not without loss. Bill will never get his brother back, and they, they, will never get Stanley back.

Tears spill down his cheeks before he can stop it. His friends all move in, demanding to know what’s wrong. Richie runs his thumb across Eddie’s face, even as more tears drip down, too many for him to catch.

Stanley. Stan. 

Eddie can recall the expression on the taller boy's face as he handed him that button pin with the bird captured across the front. The first pin Eddie ever got from his friends. He remembers the expression on Stan’s face when he thanked him for the pin, how his cheeks flushed pink and he turned away to avoid Eddie’s gaze. So embarrassed to get caught being a good friend.

He lost that pin, ripped away from him by Bowers, and now he's lost Stanley too. 

Eddie’s heart _aches_. He knows all their hearts ache. He can see the tears form in his friend's eyes, as the emotions following all the events they went through come over them.

It’s such an odd sense of relief, but also a suffocating amount of grief. Eddie absolutely despises it. He wishes he could turn back time, to before that summer, and do everything differently.

Late in the evening a few nights later, Eddie is sat up in his hospital bed, working through his dinner. Richie is in the chair by his bedside, feet propped on the edge of Eddie’s bed, as he scarfs downs the pudding from Eddie’s meal.

“Richie,” Eddie says, “I’m sorry about when I left Derry, the way I did.” Richie stops eating and moves his feet off the bed.

“God, Eds, that was almost twenty years ago, forget about it.” He brushes it off even as he avoids eye contact with Eddie.

“But I can’t forget about it, what if I hadn’t left? Where could we be?”

Richie gets up with a sigh and leans into Eddie’s space. 

“Eddie, you know what? I was being a selfish prick back then. You wanted to get away from your mother, and I just wanted to trap you here because I wanted you to stay with me.” 

“But you were ready to go with me. You said I could stay with you, and that we could get our own place.”

Richie scoffs, “I didn’t have any plans Eddie. I mean, yeah, course, I wanted to leave this miserable town, but I had nothing then but my words. I was just an idiot so desperately in love with you that I would do anything, or say anything, to get you to stay. Completely selfish.”

Eddie blushes at his admission and adverts his eyes down to his hands, curled in his lap. 

_“Were_ in love with me?” Richie frowns.

“Yeah, Eddie, you knew how much I loved you right? All I wanted was you.” Eddie nods.

“Right...loved, got it.” His hands curl together in his lap, and god why is still like this? It’s been so long since he had anything with Richie, but all it takes is some fucking clown to bring him back right here, with his heart bleeding for Richie Tozier like it has for most of his life.

“Wait...Eddie.” Eddie looks up, assuming Richie has something to add. But his expression is now similar to his, cheeks flushed.

His shoulders go up, hunching by his ears. 

And wait.

_Wait_.

Eddie knows this. He remembers this. God, he hasn’t seen this since they were fifteen.

Richie leans into his space, his shoulders dropping as he takes one of Eddie’s hand with a determined swipe, bringing it up to his lips.

Eddie can’t believe this is really happening. He can’t face it, so his eyes remain on Richie’s shoulders. He knows every move they make, every tick, every flex; he doesn’t have to see Richie’s face to read his thoughts. Never has.

He feels a wet kiss press against his knuckles and he flushes deep.

“I think there’s a conversation to be had here Spaghetti.” 

And just like that, everything falls into place.

* * *

Eddie watches from the side stage as Richie performs for a captivated audience. He has a stool somewhere in the centre of the floor, but Eddie has yet to see him take a seat on it. He’s up and interacting with the audience, calling out members with little jokes and digs. He’s currently making some joke at a man by the front left of the stage, something about the shirt he’s wearing.

Sometimes Eddie likes to be part of the audience, but sometimes he likes to watch Richie from the sidelines. He can read his husband better from standing behind him instead of facing him. Always has.

Right now Richie’s as relaxed as he’s ever seen him. Well, that’s not true, he’s most unguarded at home when he’s holding Eddie in his arms or playing around with their two-year-old pup, Diego. But he’s definitely in his element right now, making jabs and sharing jokes with a party of fans. His shoulders are sloped naturally, his broad back; pulling on the hem of his signature Hawaiian shirt, it’s bright red colour a stark contrast in the blue of the stage lights. Richie has always been quite broad, but he’d filled out quite a bit over the last few years, a combination of age and determination. After everything that happened in Derry, Richie had started a light workout routine. Eddie did too, they would often jog through the park together, but he has to tread more carefully, as his body will never run at the same capacity it did before he had a hole punched through his chest. 

Eddie watches his husband stride confidently from one end of the stage to the other. Mouthing off about their pup and something he did a few weeks back. Part of it is true, Eddie can tell, but he knows Richie embellishes a bit for the routine. Eddie has most of Richie’s skits memorized by now, having been the first person privy to hearing them as Richie tested them out. Last week, Ben and Beverly had come down to visit and they’d also been privy to testing out Richie’s newest bits. Ben really tried to be helpful, Beverly dragged Eddie out of the house a couple of hours after Richie and Ben started going back and forth about the same line.

Eddie hears his name and his focuses in from his stream of consciousness, inwardly cringing as he realizes that Richie’s started in on the routine about Eddie and the time Diego tore up their new lounge chair, the day after they bought it.

“My husband is five-foot-six, and you don’t think a person that short would ever be terrifying, but we come home one night, and it’s the third night we tried to take away from the dog, get him used to us being out more. But we come home and this chair we got the day before is in tatters. A complete mess.” There’s the gasp from the audience and Richie lets out this exhilarating laugh, like he’s telling this story for the first time, and not the hundredth.

Eddie’s heart squeezes in his chest, affection for his goofball of his husband running through him. That laugh reminds of the first time Richie convinced him to get on his motorcycle; the same sound echoed through Eddie’s head as he buried his face into Richie’s shoulder. 

“…It’s a mess! I’m not sure if Eddie is about to scream, or cry, or throw something, but I’m suddenly grateful not to be that dog!” The audience laughs.

The lights cast a reflection of colour off of Richie’s shirt that makes Eddie’s breath still in his chest. The colours dance together, blue and red, a faint hint of purple.

Just like the first button pin, Richie gave him. The one he found mangled in the grass outside of their school, the one he sobbed over. The one Richie stood up to Bowers over, for him, shoulders trembling with fear. 

“…But then it’s suddenly all on me! He’s got this kitten glare directed at me now and it’s adorable but fucking terrifying!” The audience lets out another boisterous laugh.

“…I’m telling you guys… and now I’m exchanging glances with the dog, begging him to switch lives with me. But this thing just gives me this look,” Richie stops, pretends to be distracted by something, “and then the dog is like - ‘peace out man’” he imitates as if their dog could speak, pitching his voice lower. The audience breaks into more peels of laughter and Eddie grins. He remembers watching Diego saunter out of the room, like a criminal walking free.

“-and let me tell you, the puppy dog eyes don’t work so great when you’re not a dog or my husband.” 

Eddie watches as Richie bows to the audience, taking a moment to leave them in their laughter to spin around and grab the bottle of water left beside the stool for him. He makes eye contact with Eddie as he stands back up, throwing him a quick wink before focusing back in on his show.

Eddie watches him, reading everything he already knows.

* * *

Feeling the mattress dip wakes Eddie from his slumber. He must have passed out as Richie cleaned him up because he’s now tucked cozily under their duvet, curled up on his side. He feels Richie curl up behind him so he spins around, locking his arms behind the other man's neck.

“Oh, Eds, I thought you were out for the night.” Eddie smiles serenely a places a chaste kiss to Richie’s lips.

“Mm, no, just waiting for you.” His hands travel from his neck to rest his shoulders, running over the skin there. Richie leans forward and down in order to kiss his forehead and rests his lips there for a moment.

“Go to sleep baby.”

Eddie gives himself another moment to run his fingers along Richie’s broad shoulders. Feeling his pulse beat under his fingertips as he moves over his collar bone.

He feels the tug of slumber climb into his brain, and the last thing he sees before succumbing to a peaceful sleep, is the bright casting of moonlight against Richie’s back, illuminating his shoulders against the pitch black of night.


End file.
